


Give Or Take A Break

by TwoBoys2Love



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 14:38:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoBoys2Love/pseuds/TwoBoys2Love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean decides the hunters need a break and sets them up in a cabin by a lake. A race that Dean wins results in him being able to claim whatever prize he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Or Take A Break

There are moments in life that are like the junction of two roads. Moments that will influence the future. Passing one of these milestones doesn't necessarily mean something _will_ happen; it might mean something won't happen. These powerful moments can also be the starting point, step number one in the foundation of the future.

Some days, Sam felt like every decision was one of those moments.

**/\sd/\sd/\sd/\sd/\sd/\sd/\sd/\**

"There's never been a _monster_ under the bed, Sam."

Sam nodded his head then after a couple of seconds decided to shake it. "Not true, Dean. Striga?"

"They don't hide under beds; they just tend to attack while kids are _in_ bed."

"That's really not the point, Dean." Sam rolled his eyes. "Technically, anything from serial killers to Wendigos could hide under a bed."

"Really?" The look on Dean's face reflected his utter lack of enthusiasm for Sam's theory. "Do you _remember_ how big the last wendigo we took out was?"

"Okay, bad example." Even Sam was getting frustrated with the conversation. And, he realized, he couldn't remember why they had started arguing in the first place.

Rather suddenly, Dean reached out and rested the back of his hand against Sam's forehead.

Batting his brother's hand away, Sam frowned. " _What_ the f-"

"You gave up on an argument. You _gotta_ be sick."

Sometimes, Sam wished he had some ordinary job and a far less annoying brother who only showed up for family dinners and the occasional football game.

They'd been driving for three days. It was Dean's theory that they needed to keep moving; that they'd just magically end up going the right direction. So far, Dean's theory seemed to be wrong. Three days in the car, an overwhelming amount of greasy diners and not nearly enough time standing had left Sam bitchy and tired. And there was _still_ no hunt on the horizon.

"You know what we need, Sammy?" Dean looked entirely too pleased with himself.

Really, Sam didn't even _want_ to know. Generally, when Dean was pleased with himself things usually ended up sucking for Sam. "I don't know, Dean, and I don't actually _want_ to know."

"I'm glad you asked, Sam," Dean said without hesitation. "I think we need some time off. _I_ think we should take a break."

If Dean had just said UFO's flew up his ass, Sam couldn't have been more surprised. Dean wasn't the kind of guy who took breaks. The times when there was no hunt on the horizon seemed to make Dean restless and angry. "What?"

"You remember breaks, Sam. Rest, beer, sun, maybe a lake, a cabin" Dean unlocked the screen on his phone and his eyes moved between the road ahead and his phone screen as he drove.

This was one of those times when Sam wished his brother had a little less confidence in his ability to multi-task. "Okay, Dean? First of all, I'm not a complete moron. Even though you never let me _have_ them, I do know what breaks are. And second, don't play with your phone. You're going to kill us one of these days."

Laughing, Dean looked over at Sam. "Give me a break. All the hunts we've been on and you think I can't do two things at once?"

"I knew you were gonna say that."

" _No_ , you didn't."

" _Yes_ , I did, Dean." The car suddenly felt too small and close and Sam fumbled with the doorknobs as he tried to roll down the window. "Fuck, why can't you drive a car with power windows?"

This time, the look on Dean's face was shock tempered with a warning. "You _so_ did not just imply that those modern, piece-of-shit, plastic cars are better than Baby."

Deciding to play it safe, Sam didn't say what he was thinking which was that the Impala was _just_ a car. "Whatever, Dean. Just tell me when you decide what we're doing."

Handing over control of all the decisions certainly wasn't a _punishment_ for Dean. That was apparent by the look of pleasure on Dean's face.

Sam opted for the one thing that _might_ prevent another stupid argument: silence.

For a few miles Dean continued fussing with his phone while managing to look up in time to see curves and oncoming traffic.

Sam's eye were starting to feel dry, tired. His eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment. He slid down on the seat a little more and closed his eyes.

"Perfect!" Dean yelled.

Every muscle in Sam's neck and back clenched as he was wrenched from the edge of sleep. An abused tendon in Sam's neck cramped and Sam groaned then gritted his teeth as the pain took hold. "What's perfect?"

"Found us somewhere to have our break."

"Fine." Sam rubbed at the knot of tension in his neck. He could care less where they ended up. As long as it involved a bed and a beer Sam would be happy.

"Wanna know where we're going?" Dean wiggled his eyebrows.

"No," Sam growled. "I don't."

**/\sd/\sd/\sd/\sd/\sd/\sd/\sd/\**

It turned out that Sam should have found out where they were going because he probably would have protested. 

They drove for six hours before stopping at a little general store for _supplies_ and gas.

After the pit stop, Dean had a brief look at a map and then drove another half an hour North and turned off the freeway. Well into the second hour on the dirt road, Sam had begun to regret agreeing to let Dean plan things.

They'd made one more quick stop as the sun went down to take a leak in the bushes then drivin another two hours.

Just about the time Sam was considering starting up another _discussion_ a small cottage appeared from the murky evening light.

"A cottage?" Sam said in disbelief. It _really_ didn't seem like Dean's style.

"Cabin," corrected Dean with a sneer on his face.

"Cottage."

The brakes slammed on _so_ quickly that Sam was thrown forward into his seatbelt so hard it burned his skin under his shirt.

"Can we _not_ fight for a little while? I know you're tired, Sam. I'm really _fucking_ tired too. Just. Just. Stop for a little while, okay?" HIdden under the lines of exhaustion on Dean's face was a vulnerability that Sam wasn't used to seeing.

Instead of arguing, Sam just nodded. There were times when he could hold his tongue when it was advantageous, contrary to what his brother may think.

"Okay," Dean said quietly. After a deep breath he drove up beside the front porch and turned off the ignition.

The _cabin_ did look more like a cottage to Sam but he was willing to let it go because of it's outward appearance. He hoped it was half as nice inside as it looked from the front seat of the Impala.

A silver key glinted in Dean's grasp when he held it up to show Sam. "Picked it up at the store, Sammy. This place is ours for four whole days."

Dean tossed the key to Sam and climbed out of the car.

After a few seconds of staring at the key, Sam pushed his door open and _finally_ got to stretch up to his full height. His neck still ached like a bitch and now his chest was aching from the seat belt. It sucked but they were finally stationary and Sam planned to make the most of it.

 

Dean rounded the back of the car with three bags of, what Sam assumed, were groceries. One of the paper bags slammed into Sam's chest and he grabbed it then followed Dean up the dirt path to the front door.

The key was warm in Sam's hand and he slipped it into the lock. He was half-prepared for something to leap out at him. What would, definately, be Dean's schtick.

But, the door swung open leaving a distinct lack of practical jokes in its wake.

The cottage looked more _cabin-y_ inside. The first thing that Sam noticed was a huge fireplace; the stone around it looked like it had some fossils mixed in with the rocks and mortar. "Cool."

"What is?" Dean was already putting beer into the fridge. He kept two of them out and handed one to Sam.

"Fireplace. So. Dean, we can stay here for four days? No hunt is gonna _magically_ appear?"

"I find your lack of faith disturbing," Dean said in a very _bad_ rendition of Darth Vader.

Sam barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. At least, Dean seemed to be in a better mood.

The grocery bag was getting heavy and Sam headed over to the kitchen to set it on the counter. 

"Here's the scoop, Sammy. Fireplace works, two bedrooms with those fancy posture-pee-whatever mattresses, tons of books. I got us more than enough food; I even bought you some stuff to make a salad."

The place certainly sounded better than Sam had expected.

"Oh! Shit. I forgot the best part," Dean exclaimed. He headed over to the window and pulled back the curtain to squint out into the darkness. "Can't see it."

"See what?" Against his better judgement, Sam headed over to Dean's side and peered out.

"Lake, Sam. A _lake_. This is the only cabin on it. And, little brother, there's a canoe, a dock and one of those floating things you can swim out to."

"Wow," Sam murmured.

Bumping his shoulder against Sam's, Dean flashed a grin. "Wow - I'm the best brother in the world - wow?"

Laughing, Sam let the curtain go and walked back over to the door to take off his boots. "You're not so bad all the time, Dean."

"In light of how much things usually fucking suck for us, I'm gonna take that washed out compliment as one for the win column."

Sam locked the deadbolt on the solid wooden door then ran his fingers over a familiar looking design that was carved into the back of the door. It looked different - out of place - somehow, because Sam wasn't used to seeing it carved. "Angel warding?"

A _very_ smug grin took over half of Dean's face. "Guess who owns the cabin, Sammy. You'll _never_ guess. Don."

Sam's eyes widened. "Don? The dickhead who gave you the joint that-"

"Yes." Dean held up his hand to quiet Sam. "That's him. He _still_ owes me. So here we are. The entire place is locked down. You'll sleep like a Princess here, Samantha."

It had been a _very_ long time since Sam had had a good night's sleep. He often found it difficult to sleep because of pain. It was rare for Sam to make it through a hunt unscathed physically. When he _did_ manage to make it back to the car uninjured there was always the fact that he spent a full third of his life crammed into the Impala.

For some reason, it hadn't occurred to Sam that he needed a break until that exactly moment. The idea of four entire days in the cabin seemed like heaven.

"This is great, Dean," Sam said finally.

"Right?" Dean toed out of his boots then padded over to flop down on the couch. He kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and managed to look a little like a housecat caught in the warmth of a sun beam.

Smiling, Sam walked over and sat down beside his brother. Even the damn couch was comfortable.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks," Sam said softly. "I needed a break, I think."

"I know ya did," Dean said. For once there was no smug smile, no teasing undertone. "I could tell. Knew you'd never suggest a break and, hell, usually we don't have time to breathe, let alone take a few days off." Dean smiled. It was warm, the smile Sam used to get when Dean picked him up from school many years before. Sam hadn't seen that smile in a _long_ time.

"How'd you know?" Sam asked. 

Glancing at his brother Dean frowned slightly. "About you needin' a break?"

Sam nodded.

"I practically raised you. Ain't nothin' I don't know about you, Sam." Dean reached out and patted Sam's thigh briefly.

In light of the fact that the couch was the most comfortable thing Sam had sat on in months, he was inclined to agree. Maybe Dean _did_ know him a little.

**/\sd/\sd/\sd/\sd/\sd/\sd/\sd/\**

When Sam woke up in the morning he was confused for a few moments. There were no loud noises coming from outside the motel room door. Sam was warm and the sheets smelled fresh.

Slowly, he remembered the night of driving and the cabin. He rolled over and buried his face in the pillow for a few moments. The scent of laundry soap was strong on the heavy cotton.

Sam grabbed his phone off the nightstand. It was 10 am. Sam hadn't slept that long in months. He certainly couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to sleep in.

There was sun streaming in the window and Sam sat up to look outside. Dean was right, the lake _was_ the best part of the cabin. The surface was still in the morning light. It was a gorgeous shade of blue and Sam could see the edge of the dock.

That was when Sam also noticed another smell. The scent of freshly brewed coffee was hanging in the air; along with bacon. "Huh."

Sam couldn't even remember the last time Dean had cooked. The mixture of smells took him back to his school days when their Dad would take off on long hunts. Dean would always cook a _huge_ breakfast for Sam on the weekends. There were always stacks of pancakes, too much syrup and toast with eggs.

Thinking about those old breakfasts made Sam's stomach growl.

He climbed out of bed and searched through his duffle bag for some clean clothes. Wool socks seemed like a good idea given how cold the hardwood floor felt under his bare feet. It was a good thing it wasn't the middle of winter.

Sam got dressed quickly in jeans and his old hoodie. Padding down the hallway, Sam tugged the sleeves down over his hands.

He found Dean at the stove in the middle of cooking pancakes.

 _Pancakes_.

"What's the occasion?" Sam headed into the kitchen and started opening cupboards to hunt down a coffee mug.

"Good thing you're a hunter." Dean smirked and nodded at the coffee cup he'd obviously left on the counter for Sam.

Chuckling a little, Sam picked up the mug and poured himself a coffee before heading over to sit down at the table.

"So, why you cooking? You haven't done that for a long time." Sam watched as his brother moved about the kitchen like he'd been living there for months.

"You see a diner 'round here, Sammy? Dean flipped the strips of bacon that were sizzling in the frying pan. "Remember when I used to cook big Saturday breakfasts for us?"

Sam smiled. "I do. Kinda miss those days."

"You miss them? Never thought I'd hear you say that." Dean started piling food onto plates.

Sam ran his hands through his hair. He had so many memories of Dean in the kitchen. Dean making breakfast. It was always Dean who was there for him. "Things were a lot more simple back then, Dean. It was nice to go to bed without worryin' about ten million things."

"Yeah, it was." Dean set two plates on the table and then grabbed some knives and forks off the counter and tossed them onto the table before he sat down. "Eat up, Sammy."

There was a bottle of maple syrup in the center of the table and Sam grabbed it. "You got the good kind. The maple stuff."

"Canadian," Dean said. He nodded with a wide grin on his face then stabbed his fork into a, rather large, pile of bacon. Shoving it into his mouth, he closed his eyes and smiled happily.

The syrup was thick and Sam watched as it dribbled slowly over the pat of butter on top of the pancakes. "This looks awesome."

Dean mumbled something with his mouth full that was incomprehensible. It just made Sam laugh so Dean tossed a piece of bacon at his head.

"Ha! Your loss, dude." The bacon disappeared into Sam's mouth.

"So, Sam?" Dean put his fork down and picked up his coffee. "You like it here?"

Surprised that Dean would even have to ask, Sam nodded until he could swallow. "God, yeah, Dean. Hell, nicest bed I've had since I left Stanford."

It was probably the wrong thing to say. The expression on Dean's face changed almost instantly. His smile wavered and he dropped his gaze. It had been the hardest thing that Sam ever did: leaving his brother. Over the years, Sam had come to realize that _his leaving_ had been easier than Dean's _staying behind_.

"I'm sorry, Dean - I didn't m-"

"Don't worry about it." Dean picked up his fork and attacked his eggs rather aggressively.

"I mean it," Sam said when Dean stayed silent.

"I know, Sam. Eat."

It frustrated Sam that they could never really have a conversation without Dean shutting down almost immediately. For years he'd been trying to apologize for things and he never seemed to get all the words out.

"I'm not kidding, Sam. Eat or I'll kick your ass. I was cooking for, at least, an hour." The smile on Dean's face looked a little forced.

"There's one thing I want from this break," Sam said firmly.

"A tan?" Dean folded a piece of bacon into this mouth.

"A talk," Sam said quickly. "A real talk you don't get to shut down after thirty seconds."

A muscle in Dean's jaw twitched and he reached for his coffee again.

"Dean? Please? I. I think maybe I need it. There are some things that I need to say to-"

"Okay," Dean interjected.

"Yeah?" It was rare for Dean to agree to any kind of conversation.

"I said so, didn't I?" Dean leaned over his plate and pushed the food around with his fork.

Sam felt like shit. Dean had looked like he was in a pretty good mood when Sam had first seen him. If the rest of the day was tainted by Sam's idiocy, he'd feel even worse.

Sam's eyes widened as an idea occurred to him. "You'd better finish that breakfast; you're gonna need it," Sam said.

For a few moments, Dean just stared at Sam from under his lashes. Finally, curiosity seemed to get the better of him. "I give up. Why do I need a _hearty_ breakfast."

Smiling, Sam winked at his brother. "We're gonna race out to the swimmer's platform later. I'm gonna kick your ass."

Dean's lips parted slowly in surprise and he stared at Sam for quite a while. Eventually, he picked up his form and very _deliberately_ pierced a piece of bacon before shoving it into his mouth. 

Sam was _very_ familiar with the determined look on his brother's face. The battle was _on_.

**/\sd/\sd/\sd/\sd/\sd/\sd/\sd/\**

"Okay," Sam said. "First one who manages to get onto the platform wins."

Dean unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. "Fine. Not a problem."

"No cheating," Sam said firmly.

"I don't cheat," Dean said slowly. He grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it off over his head so he could toss it aside.

There were some new scars on Dean's chest. It wasn't surprising with what they'd been through; it was just that Sam didn't see his brother's chest in daylight very often.

"You just realizin' how hot I am now?" Dean's belt buckle clanked as he undid it.

"What? No. No." Sam shook his head and pulled his own t-shirt off. The burn of embarrassment settled on Sam's face so he took a few moments to rub his shirt over his cheeks.

Dean kicked his boots aside then undid his jeans. "You're goin' down, Sam."

Keeping his eyes on the lake, Sam kicked his way out of his jeans. He tugged on his jersey boxers to reposition himself and strode towards the lake. The sooner they got in the water, the better.

"We starting this thing?" Dean appeared at Sam's side, stretching his shoulder out.

"I'll countdown. Three, two, we go on one." The platform bobbed on the slight waves the wind was stirring up.

Dean nodded. "On one."

Sam glanced out at their target then back at his brother. "Three, Two...One"

Sam jumped, ran three steps and then executed an, almost perfect, racing dive. His body skimmed the surface of the water and he slid smoothly into a front crawl.

The water was cold and it took a few strokes before Sam managed to coordinate his breathing. All the summer months of lake swimming came back to Sam and he could feel himself flying through the water.

There was no time to catch a glimpse of Dean. Sam could tell that his brother was _right_ with him. They were both good swimmers' their father had said it might save their lives one day. All Sam hoped it would accomplish was making him the winner of the race. On his next stroke, Sam looked forward. They were already nearly halfway to the platform. Sam saw movement out of the corner of his eye; as usual Dean was right by his side. Summoning up every bit of energy he had, Sam surged forward as they covered the last twenty feet to the platform. His chest was aching, the muscles in his arms were burning. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been swimming, let alone in a race. At about ten feet, Sam could feel himself flagging but he held on. Five feet and then Sam's right hand smacked down onto the platform. He looked up in time to see Dean arrive a couple of seconds later. The next breath Sam sucked into his oxygen starved lungs arrived with about a gallon of water. Sam's lungs protested instantly and he had a few seconds of the terrifying _lack_ of ability to breathe before he was choking and coughing so hard it felt like it would break him in two.

Dean's hand slapped hard against his brother's back a few times. Sam managed to get in half a breath before his next coughing fit.

"Sam? Try and relax," Dean said breathlessly

Sam's fingers curled over the edge of the platform and he hung there concentrating on trying to fill his lungs.

Dean's hand rubbed a circle on Sam's upper back and Sam concentrated on the feel of it. Very slowly the spasming in Sam's chest unclenched and he was _finally_ able to draw in an _actual_ breath."

"That sucked," Sam sputtered.

"Was a good race." Dean shoved all the long, wet strands of hair back off Sam's forehead. "You gonna live?"

For some reason, Sam felt like he couldn't meet Dean's gaze. He wasn't sure why. "I'm fine. I think."

The float bobbed erratically for a few bit as Dean climbed up onto it. He lay down and huffed, chest still rising and falling quite fast.

Rather than staying in the water feeling odd, Sam hauled himself up onto the platform as well.

He collapsed on to his back with his legs dangling in the lake. His throat still hurt a little but he wasn't going to complain about it; Dean would never let him hear the end of it.

"What did you say I won?" Dean asked.

"What?" Sam propped himself up on his elbows and turned to look at his brother.

"I won." Dean shrugged. "What did I win?"

"How is it that you won?" Sam shifted further up the platform until his face was level with Dean's. "I touched the platform first."

"You did. But that's not what we were racing to. You said _first one to manage to get on the platform._ " Dean smirked and ran his fingers through his hair to shake out some of the extra water.

Shocked, Sam took a few moments to run through the conversation is his mind. _Fuck_ , he had said that. "Great so you won. You get...my congratulations."

"Pfft." Dean rolled towards Sam and he was suddenly only a few inches away from Sam.

"What? You're- you're not happy with my admiration?" Sam shifted nervously and glanced at the shore off in the distance.

"I want a real prize, asshole. I won. This was _your_ idea." Dean reached over and flicked some lake weed off Sam's bare shoulder.

"What the hell, Dean? You were expecting an engraved trophy or something?" It wasn't as though Sam had actually planned the swimming race.

"Just want what I got comin' to me." Dean blinked a few times as a drop of water clung to his lashes.

Sam shook his head vigorously to get rid of some of the remaining water in his hair. "When ya come up with somethin', let me know. I'll hook you up."

"Welcher."

"Am not. Jesus! Whatever you want, Dean. You know what you want? It's yours." Sam rolled his eyes. He was pretty sure that Dean wouldn't' be able to come up with anything.

"Okay," Dean said. There was a sparkle in his eyes and the green was particularly vibrant because of the sunlight.

Shrugging a shoulder, Sam closed his eyes. Dean would probably call dibs on the last beer or something.

Just as Sam blew out a breath; lips pressed to his. _Dean's lips_. He started, eyes popping open as he pulled back. The sensation lingered; hot, smooth skin, cooled by lakewater.

His brother had kissed him, full on the lips. It wasn't like the kisses they used to give each other before they were old enough to realize it wasn't something they should do. It wasn't a kiss of relief. It wasn't to annoy Sam. It was a simple, warm, kiss. The thing that absolutely scared the shit out of Sam was that it didn't feel wrong. 

Dean's pupils had slid wide over the green in Dean's eyes. "You said I could have what I wanted."

Sam _had_ said that. He had _definitely_ said that. Without even thinking about it, Sam ran his tongue over his bottom lip. He could still taste the lake water.

"That it?" Dean said steadily.

First, Sam had to swallow. Second, he took a deep breath. "Uh. I - You. You kissed me."

"I did." There was a satisfied smile on Dean's face. "I asked you a question."

Sam's eyes widened and a bead of heat slithered down his back. His brother had asked if _that_ was all. It wasn't often that Sam was speechless.

Dean quirked an eyebrow and shifted closer. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip and Sam's gaze followed its path.

"Well?" Dean's voice was like a finger trailing down Sam's skin and he shuddered.

Dean closed in on Sam's mouth again. His lips parted over Sam's, wet and warm. He caught Sam's bottom lip and kissed it before sliding his tongue along it.

Every drop of blood in Sam's body felt like molten steel. Dean tasted perfect; beer, fresh lake and - _Dean_. 

Their noses bumped slightly and Dean tilted his head and covered Sam's mouth completely with his own. He teased Sam's lips apart, tongue easing forwards tentatively.

There were a million reasons why Sam should be shoving his brother away. But, this was Dean. Sam would do anything for his brother. He leaned into the kiss, their mouths crushed together and Sam felt a moan crawling up from deep within him.

Dean's lips were so full, so soft. He moved them over Sam's like he'd thought about it for a million years; like he'd planned every single tick of time that would pass after the moment their lips first met.

At the moment Dean's tongue slid into Sam's mouth - the world seemed to come to a complete stand still. Sam's heart thumped like it was three times its actual size. He twisted his tongue around his brother's. _His brother's_ and he didn't care because it was hotter than Hell and felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Finally, with a painful bite on Sam's bottom lip, Dean withdrew.

It took a while and a few deep breaths before Sam dared to open his eyes.

As usual, Dean had a smirk on his face. But there was a tantalizing darkness in his eyes that Sam had never seen before.

"That it?" Sam asked. He caught his bottom lip under his teeth so he could convince himself the kissing had happened. The taste of Dean was there, rich and perfect and Sam felt a flare of _want_ that was almost frightening.

When Dean stayed silent, Sam cocked his head slightly. "I asked you a question."

The smirk on Dean's lips grew and he dragged his thumb along his bottom lip slowly. "Double or nothin'."

Dean pushed up to a crouch and kept his eyes on Sam's. The question lingered on Dean's face, in his eyes, _waiting_ for Sam's answer.

Crawling towards the edge of the platform, Sam slipped back into the cool water. "You're on."

Sam watched as Dean's body flew over his head in a perfect dive.

It wasn't like Sam cared. He fully intended to lose. He had no ideas what _double_ the first kiss would be but he _wanted_ it. It was the first time in Sam's life that he threw a race.


End file.
